Master Bath, Zombies, & Bath Box Painting

Back when Joseph was about 2 months old, Stephen somehow convinced me to let him put a second story master bathroom addition onto the house. We managed to build it and, thankfully, it never fell over.

Then we got distracted, tore down other walls, had a second baby, and generally lost our minds. The addition morphed into a storage closet.

Now that Joseph is about to turn 3 (let's not dwell on that fact...), we find that we don't really enjoy stepping on dinosaurs when we are taking a shower. We'd like our own bathroom, thank you very much.

Stephen has really been pushing this project lately. Something about how having a working bathroom 20 feet closer to his computer desk would result in considerably less zombie-related fatalities caused by an unavoidable need to pee in the middle of a Day Z game with his friends???

I did not make that up. He seriously cited that as a reason. Seriously.

Absurd man. I rolled my eyes so violently that I think I strained them.

So we bought a tub & toilet.

The room is now wired and insulated.

We have Pex water lines and holes for drains. Look! The pink downstairs bathroom!

Stephen is currently focused on installing the rest of the PVC so we can move onto tiling and drywall. Meanwhile, his son is focused on creating "tunnels" for his electronic bug to run through.

We are making progress. We still have lots of projects to finish (i.e. the living room), but the upstairs is the warmest part of the house right now, so that's where we are spending all of our time. We've bought tile and are discussing vanity and shelving preferences (more on that later).

In the meantime, Joseph is certainly profiting in the fort business.

The nice thing about giant bathtubs is that they come in GIANT BOXES! I love cardboard in winter. I really, really do.

I gave him a mini roller and some paint and let him go to town.

The whole time I was thinking (in my inner Mr. Burns voice), "Yes, yes, learn how to paint with a roller. Believe that it is fun. Then you can be Mommy's slave labor big helper whenever she wants to paint a wall." Then I cackled evilly in my head and tapped my fingers together.

At one point, he handed me the roller and told me how to spell his name.

Then he made his own "O" and I got all choked up with pride.

Then he got paint on my bedroom door and I got over my pride. Huzzah for diaper wipes!

When he got bored with the roller, I gave him some bubble wrap.

Cardboard and bubble wrap, how do I love thee?

When interest in bubble wrap started to fade, I sent him inside the giant box.

We painted, "No girls allowed!" to keep Juliana out. Yeah, because that's likely to happen...

Again, I'm thinking, "Yes, yes. Learn how to paint the ceiling. I have a whole ceiling in the living room for you to paint!" Then I remembered that would require a ladder and, consequently, about a 12 year wait. Then I was sad because that means I still have to do it. Shucks.

All told, he was occupied for the entirety of his baby sister's 2 hour morning nap. Winning!